


Mother's Milk

by Patience_on_a_Monument



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, F/M, JJ more like BJ, Lactation Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, There's A Tag For That, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 18:59:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10950741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patience_on_a_Monument/pseuds/Patience_on_a_Monument
Summary: JJ gets thirsty and nervous during the banquet and goes looking for some dutch courage.





	Mother's Milk

**Author's Note:**

> For discord

There are many ways Jean-Jacques Leroy would describe himself. Confident, assured, handsome, talented, vocalist. Champion. Desperate is not one of those words. He has been desperate in the past, young but headstrong and with nobody around him other than his parents to reassure him that he was OK, and that everyone else would see that his image of his self-made, independent life would be the correct path. In those days his mother would let him suckle as her teat, long past weaning - a sign of the trust and love and unconditional acceptance she held for him that would lull him back to peace. She had described it as infusing him with her spirit, passing on her success and love and confidence. These days his mother was dry, but he was grown and imperturbable.

Skating camps are necessary, and necessarily isolating. Away from his mother and any girlfriends of the time in a high-tension environment he had found himself pressed into discovering other methods of stress relief. This had prompted into the revelation that drinking release from fellatio, while not as good a salve, ticked the same checkbox somewhere deep in his brain, as well as acting as a rather immediate and irrefutable validation of technique. It had led to a series of experimentations and discoveries that culminated in the tattoo across the base of his spine: people in the future would remember Jean-Jacques Leroy as both a great skater and a great lay. 

He had built his whole career around a theme of self-esteem and self-determination. He was not a desperate man.

He had not expected the Grand Prix Final to turn out the way it had at all. On arriving in Barcelona he had expected things to gel together effortlessly; he was a winner, there with other winners and they would be able to recognise him as one of the pack. Things were always strained at competitions, but they were all trying to be the best but those who made it here were the best, the best half dozen figure skaters out there. The Grand Prix Final was where he belonged. 

And yet he could feel the itch and tug of a bad fit at the edges of his mind. He'd tried not to be affected by being blown off by them when he happened across all the other finalists, and Nikiforov, at dinner in town. Smiled through the apprehension and disappointment as though it had meant nothing and then crumpled under the pressure of being unwanted in such company during his short programme. 

JJ knew that he deserved to be here, and could be better than those around him - a kid, a newbie, a perpetual second best, an unknown and one who flunked his last Final so hard he almost retired and had to be saved by a publicity stunt. 

The thought of failing to nerves just like Katsuki the year before sapped at his foundations until he could feel them tremble at their weight as he tried to rally for the free skate. He had a long conversation with his parents and a quiet night with Isabella, mouthing at a nipple that could never give him the comfort of milk. Isabella wasn't yet ready to carry on the Leroy line, and they weren't to marry until JJ got his act together and stopped failing and won her a gold at a major competition. The medal would make lovely rings, and Isabella would make a beautiful mother to their whole family.

The free skate turned out… fine. It was not his best, pushed through out of frustration at himself and a burning, despairing wish to not let his ego suffer any more. He was almost sure that he had seen his father talking to the judges the night before but refused to think about how his scores ended up so high. He plastered on his most photogenic smile as he tried to convince himself that the podium was where he should be and not to let himself drown in the churning roiling nervousness in his stomach. 

The banquet found him almost frantic. His parents had gone home earlier that day to attend his sister's competition, just after his exhibition skate. Isabella had left the hall to go back to their hotel room, citing exhaustion from the excitement other competition and to check in with her family while the time difference was still manageable. 

JJ was alone in a room of his peers who had traded out dismissal in favour of passive aggressive suspicion on account of his scores. He had seen Plisetsky starting towards him twice and only avoiding an altercation by being held back by Altin. Nerves made him testy and restless and he craved the relaxation of suckling for milk, but he could always go for the alternative. 

He had time enough later to explain to himself that it was therefore completely expected and logical that he would find himself now ducking under a table at the GPF celebratory banquet when the coast was clear and waiting for a likely candidate. He could hardly be obvious about this at an event like this after making such a name for himself today – he couldn’t do that to Isabella, no matter how much she claimed to understand. He had to work under anonymity and get his comforts as easily, quickly and complication-free as he could before meeting the last group of sponsors still doing preliminary negotiations with an affiliate and retire to bed.

A pair of women brought their buffet plates back to his table and he shifted anxiously while he waited for them to move on. There was just enough room when they pulled their chairs in for him to cling to the central pillar of the table, and he scooted around to the other side of the column and coiled up until they moved on. 

Minutes passed like hours until he heard a familiar, low rumbling voice approach his table. 

Chris. Jackpot.

Chris had something of a reputation among the skaters for free love, freely given – enough that it had even filtered through to JJ. He waited until he had settled down at his seat with his small party, identified by the position of his voice and the tan of the hands arranging the napkin on his lap. 

Steady and smooth intake of breath, drag of nails across his own thighs to ground himself and he moved with feline grace through the jungle of wooden chair legs to position himself just in front of Chris’s knees. He reached out with a slow, tentative hand and tried not to look at the tremors of nerves that filtered through his fingers. 

JJ’s fingers brushed lightly against Chris’s left knee which jolted away for a fraction of a second at the contact, Chris not even breaking the rhythm of his conversation. JJ sucked in a breath, figuring he was over before he got started and should have tried thinking up excuses for being under the tablecloth before he got on his knees.

Nothing happened. JJ risked inching his fingers closer as his breath started to burn in his chest. His pointer finger applied the barest of pressure to the inside of Chris’s thigh and as the muscles tightened there was an audible hitch in the voice above him.

“Yes it’s been quite the- the interesting week. But we fly out again on Wednesday, hardly any time to ourselves these days!”

It seemed that JJ was in luck, and not at risk of being outed. At least not immediately. He nestled further into the gap between the knees in front of him and chanced running a hand further up towards the crotch along the smooth fabric of his dress pants, getting a soft warm burr out of Chris. He readjusted himself to be closer again, careful not to nudge into any of the other pairs of legs sitting at the table.

Getting the buckle undone without alerting anyone to the noise was a little rattling but was over soon enough and JJ quietly drew down the zip and pared back the sides of the fly with as little fuss as he could to pull Chris free. 

It was dark under the tablecloth, but JJ could see the shade of Chris’s tan complement the white of his shirt and the burgundy of his briefs. There was a shiver JJ could feel in the knees bracketed around his shoulders as Chris met the air, and he capitalised on this by licking lightly along the soft length before pulling back and blowing air over him. The knees suddenly locked close and there was a huff made out through the thick oak table. He reasoned he should take his time and be more careful, and dedicated himself to pulling his hands down the shaft, long and thin, squeezing in a milking motion that cooled some of the burning tension in his gut. 

JJ leaned in to lick the tip as Chris got harder under his hand, and the shudder that went up Chris gave JJ a corresponding jolt of accomplishment through his bones. He could hear Chris passing it off with, “there’s a horrid chill going through here, non?” and settled on getting more of a reaction out of him, sucking on the head in an achingly familiar action while bringing his other hand up to massage his balls. There was an appreciative hum in appreciation, passed off as the introduction of a carefree laugh. JJ started to settle into the rhythm, licks and suckles timing with strokes and rubs and he lost himself a little to the warmth of the flesh, the smell of Chris humid and sweaty, the feel of the veins and the barest of stubble under the pads of his fingers. He wasn’t aroused himself, but the butterflies in his guts were being quieted with every passing second. A hand snaked under the table to thread into the longer hair at the top of his head and affectionately massaged a thumb through his locks.

He moved under to give a long lick up from the base of Chris’s cock right round to the slit and then sank right the way down to nose the immaculately trimmed dark hair he found there, waits there for a moment while he adjusted himself. Chris had gone very rigid around him and the hand in his hair tightened, and JJ was only halfway through pulling back up when suddenly Chris was coming hard, a lot, and silently, and JJ had to adjust quickly to get himself in control. They stayed still with JJ still half-way down Chris’ cock and swallowing the last of the release around the girth stretching his jaw. 

As the taste spread across his tongue he could feel his anxiety smooth away in a haze of childhood associations and endorsement. This was better. It had been over fast so he hadn’t had quite the mental preparation he normally expected, and he knew enough about Chris to not let it go to his ego, but he was relaxing into the feeling of acceptance and calm. Almost better. He pulled off Chris and carefully tucked him back in, replacing his zip, button and buckle then sitting back against the central column to gather himself. 

Chris chuckled quietly to his companions, chipping in occasionally but markedly less outspoken than previously and sounded out of breath. Eventually the hand came back to pat his head and then Chris was pushing his chair back and standing out of it.

“Ah, there you are!” he could just about hear as Chris moved away, flirty and confident and like absolutely nothing had happened in the last half hour. “Eat up, mon petit cochon, I think you’ll need it to survive tonight!”

A pair of smart shoes and uninspired socks moved into view and pulled out the chair across from where Chris had been sitting. JJ waited, but it seemed the occupant – a pig? - was taking his sweet time and was sitting alone for the time being. Endorphins still thrumming through his veins prompted action over shame and he crawled confidently over to kneel between the new legs, feeling the burn crawl up his thighs from his confinement under this table. He hoped he'd fine his opportunity to exit sometime before the hall emptied. 

He went direct, putting a hand on the inside of either thigh and feeling the definition. Another of the skaters, a dancer maybe? The muscles tightened immediately under his fingertips and he heard a high pitched squeak, JJ freezing up in return. Neither made a move until the breathing of the athlete in front of him slowed and evened and relaxed enough for a little exclamation of, "oh!"

Knees opened readily for him then and he heard elbows being braced on the table. JJ relaxed and stroked up and back down the trousers about him, feeling the muscles and reveling in the whimpers he could just about make out. He was quicker and defter with his unbuckling this time, and soon had his hand around a silky smooth cock and breathing over the tip as it came to full hardness. He stroked his free hand through the fine thatch of black hair and gave a teasing lick to the underside of the head. The man's leg kicked out in spasm and hit one of the pulled-in chairs, both of them jumping then still for a beat before the man gives the smallest of whispery laughs.

JJ started up in full force then, nursing at the slit with a closed mouth and tiny licks before he drew it fully into his mouth, sucking as deep and enthusiastically as he could without letting the smacking sounds of his ministrations get too loud, letting the twitches let him know how well he was doing. The fullness in his mouth, the heavy sound of his own breaths in the claustrophobic cave under the tablecloth and the pounding of blood through his arteries pull him out of the mess in his own head. He leaned back to slide off for a moment, then reattached himself to the glans for a particularly powerful suckle when

"Yuuri~!" came the unmistakable trill of Victor Nikiforov from across the hall, getting perceptibly louder as the body around him got impossibly tight around his shoulders, a sense of dread settling heavy in his soul. "What are you doing all the way over here away from everybody? It's time to celebrate, I have you a drink?"

“Vitya?" came a voice from the torso in front of him, pitch rising in panic. "But that’s impossible, if you’re here then who…?”

JJ felt the newly-acquired calm pour out of him as the panic crawled under his skin burning like ice, forcing him full-force into a faint. The last thought to flash through his delirious mind was, “I wonder if drinking the success of the Living Legend was what got Katsuki this miracle comeback?”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> The secret behind JJ's greatness is him being brestfed even being a grown up. When away from family, he just sucked some dick to avoid abstinence. His mom's boobs finally goes dry and Isabella won't lactate. In a abstinence crisis he crawls under tables in the banquet sucking any available dick to drink come.


End file.
